Dinner Plans in the Desert
by Brightbear
Summary: While stranded in the desert Trip thinks about food, the perfect meal and the perfect company. An anxious Malcolm aids in the search. TripxMalcolm.
1. Chapter 1

**Dinner Plans in the Desert  
Fandom : Enterprise  
Rating : General  
Pairing : Trip/Malcolm  
Summary: While stranded in the desert Trip thinks about food, the perfect meal and the perfect company. Slash.  
Spoilers: For 1****st**** Season, 'Desert Crossing'.**

* * *

Trip's head was throbbing and it was a moment before he was aware that someone was speaking to him.  
"Commander," said a voice loudly.  
Trip winced and opened his eyes. After a moment, the darkness in front of him solidified into a blurry Captain Archer. Trip was confused until he remembered that they were stranded at night, in the middle of a desert with no food or water and no allies.  
"The warp reactor," continued the Captain.  
"What?" said Trip. 

He focused a little harder and the determined look on the Captain's face became visible. The sound of his own heartbeat sounded too loud, as if it were being replayed back to him through speakers and an amplifier. He thought was unlikely given that they had taken shelter in an abandoned settlement with less than half a dozen walls still standing. There was no technology here and only minimal relief after an eight-hour trek in forty-degree heat across the desert.  
"What are the eight main components?" said the Captain.  
Trip could barely think with bruised ribs and his heart thumping loudly in his ribcage.  
"You gotta be kidding me," he said, wheezing.  
He would have laughed out loud if he'd had the strength but all he could manage was an aborted cough. He was aware that the Captain didn't want him to fall asleep but he'd forgotten the reason.  
"Name them," insisted the Captain. "That's an order."

Trip forced himself to think about the Starship _Enterprise _where he'd been serving as Chief Engineer for more than ten months. The ship's shape appeared behind his closed eyelids but he couldn't quite find the words that matched. It was saucer-shaped with two protruding sections that made it look a little like a trussed up turkey.  
"Well…," said Trip loudly, finding it easier to think with his eyes closed. "There's the drumsticks… thighs… wings…"  
The image of the starship _Enterprise _abruptly morphed into a roasted chicken so real that Trip could smell it.  
"We got anything to eat around here?" he asked hopefully.  
He could tell from the Captain's silence that it wasn't the response the Captain expected. Trip tried to remember what the Captain wanted but his brain felt like it was overheating.  
"Not at the moment," said the Captain easily, as he settled down to sit opposite Trip.  
Trip sighed in genuine disappointment.  
"But when we get back to _Enterprise_," said the Captain. "I'll have Chef make you a dinner you'll never forget. What would you like? Anything."

Trip managed to open his eyes enough to see the barren sandy floor they were sitting on. He remembered the last time he and Jon had trekked through a desert together and he knew what he didn't want.  
"_No _snakemeat," he said firmly.  
"No," chuckled the Captain. "Chef doesn't do snake very well."  
Trip closed his eyes but was shaken roughly by the shoulder. Trip half-opened his eyes again to look at the Captain.  
"Tell me what you want," insisted the Captain.  
The heat helped him think of an answer.  
"Prime rib," he said firmly.

He closed his eyes again and thought about how the meat would taste. He could even see the setting on the table as he, the Captain and Sub-Commander T'Pol sat down to eat their normal meal. Trip and the Captain had been friends for years and he had come to respect T'Pol but something seemed not quite right about the imagined scene.  
"Okay," said the Captain, sounding faintly pleased. "What else?"  
"Mashed potato with mushroom gravy," managed Trip, feeling his lips crack. "The kind he makes on Wednesday nights."  
"No problem," said the Captain, huddling closer to the fire he'd lit earlier.

Trip remembered from his desert survival training that at night, temperatures could fall below freezing. If the heat of the day didn't kill you, the cold of the night would. The Captain's shivering and his insistence in building the fire hinted that the air was already cold. Trip couldn't feel it for himself, his fever was too high. He felt like he'd never be cool again. Ironic considering that he'd almost frozen to death a few months ago. Trip must've drifted off because the Captain poked him.  
"Hey, vegetables," said the Captain.  
"Broccoli," said Trip.  
Trip closed his eyes to see how the meal looked now. It looked wholesome and tasty and he wished he could reach out and touch it. There still seemed to be something missing though.  
"Dessert?" said the Captain.  
Trip didn't have to think too hard, "Pecan pie."

The Captain laughed his approval and it was a familiar sound but Trip wasn't too sure. Something still felt wrong to him about their imagined meal. Besides a good Claret (and he doubted they would be allowed to drink on duty), there wasn't anything the food lacked. Trip supposed it might be the imagined company that didn't suit.

The habit of eating with the Captain and T'Pol had originally been due to rank and the Captain's intention to 'acclimatise' T'Pol to human company. Now, genuine friendship played its part but he wasn't sure that they would be his ideal choice for company. T'Pol had recently implied over dinner that sexual frustration was reducing the crew's efficiency. She had also pointed out that rank prevented both the senior officers from finding company on-board the ship.

Trip contemplated the images of all the girls he had ever dated. They struck him as fun company but not really what he was looking for. He wanted someone who would hang around for more than simple flirtation.

* * *

It was nearly half an hour and a game of geography later, when the mortars began to fall. It started as a rumbling vibration that sounded distant and muted. The Captain frowned and walked to peer outside, leaving Trip sitting on the ground with only a pillar for support. The Captain must have seen the mortars coming because he turned and sprinted towards Trip.  
"Get your head down!" yelled the Captain.  
"What?" said Trip.  
"Get your head down," repeated the Captain. 

The Captain threw himself at Trip, forcing Trip's head and shoulders down towards the ground. The two toppled to the ground in an awkward pile. Trip's head ended up in the Captain's lap, sandwiched between his legs and chest.

The incoming mortar exploded less than twenty metres away. The entire building shook. As the _Enterprise's _Chief Engineer, Trip was uniquely qualified to be disturbed by the shuddering of strategic support beams in the roof. His fears were realised when part of the ceiling fell in.

The majority of the debris fell to their left but sand and grit showered down upon the two of them. A rock or two must have been carried with the sand as Trip felt the Captain tensing against the odd blow. He wanted to help, to take the blows himself but he couldn't even find the strength to push the Captain away. The awkwardness and indignity of the position had to be endured.

Trip and the Captain had been friends for decades but Trip had never before had his head in the Captain's lap. Apart from a difficulty in breathing, it also brought certain anatomical features to attention that he had been perfectly happy to ignore. He was whimsically reminded of a meal they had been served in the camp of the merchant who had invited them here.

They had been served a dish known reassuringly as 'Blood Soup'. Trip had foolishly asked what the fleshy bits in the soup were. The answer had been, rather disturbingly, 'Essence of the male'. Neither the Captain nor Trip had spoken but they both mentally translated the fleshy balls of meat into 'testicle'. Trip had desperately wished Malcolm could have witnessed that moment. Malcolm would have appreciated it.

Trip imagined the meal with Malcolm joining them. The picture seemed much better. In fact, it seemed just perfect if Malcolm and Malcolm only joined him for the meal. Trip was shocked to realise that the withdrawn Malcolm Reed had become a friend as dear to him as the Captain. Malcolm's quiet intensity and constant presence was a comfort.  
"We've got to get out of here," bellowed the Captain, far too close to Trip's ear.  
He dragged Trip to his feet and walked him from the shelter as mortars continued to fall.

Trip's heat exhausted brain struggled to focus as they moved. A small ship approached them, coming in low over the dunes and pinning them in the glare of its searchlights.  
"Leave me," gasped Trip. "Save yourself."  
"I don't take orders from you," snapped the Captain.

Trip wasn't sure whether his knees gave way or the Captain dropped him but he ended up face-first in the sand. The Captain stood over him shakily, waving his phase pistol threateningly at the approaching craft. Trip was disappointed that he would die without getting to eat that perfect meal. He wouldn't even get the chance to tell Malcolm about it, let alone invite him.

It was probably just as well since Malcolm might misinterpret the invitation as some kind of romantic overture and be awkward and offended. The thought that Malcolm might be offended was somehow worse than the thought of a misunderstanding. Trip was even further surprised to realise that he probably did mean the dinner as a romantic overture.

The Captain grabbed him hard, laughing, and pulled Trip back to his feet. Trip tried to push the Captain away to encourage him to save himself. Sand was being thrown up into the air by the craft's thrusters. The craft settled to the ground in front of them. They were halfway across the sand before Trip recognised the ship as one of _Enterprise's _shuttlecraft.

The hatch opened and T'Pol bodily dragged Trip inside. Either Trip was lighter than he remembered or Vulcans were stronger than he realised. Trip's knees collided with a seat and he allowed his momentum to pull him down onto it. A waterbag was pressed to his lips and T'Pol's firm voice directed him to sip slowly.

The inside of the shuttlecraft was bright and Trip desperately wanted to shut his eyes. Before he did so, he forced himself to look throughout the shuttlecraft to see who was there. He met Malcolm's clear blue eyes and relaxed. There seemed to be some sort of answering flicker in Malcolm's eyes that was almost relief. Trip himself was relieved. He still had a chance to ask what he wanted to ask. Then Malcolm turned back to his console. The shuttlecraft rose back into the air and Trip surrendered to blissful unconsciousness.

THE END


	2. Arguments in the Shuttlebay

**Arguments in the Shuttlebay  
Fandom : Enterprise  
Rating : General  
Pairing : Trip/Malcolm  
Summary : An anxious Malcolm helps in the search for the missing officers.  
Spoilers : Episode dialogue for 1****st**** Season episode, 'Desert Crossing'.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, Enterprise or any of its related series or characters.**

* * *

Malcolm fought to keep his irritation down. His self-control was slipping and he was sure that Sub-Commander T'Pol could see it. Both Captain Archer and Commander Trip Tucker were missing in a desert battle-zone and the man responsible for their predicament, Zobral, seemed cheerfully unconcerned for their safety. At T'Pol's insistence, Zobral finally explained why it was that he had invited_Enterprise _to his planet. The explanation was not what Malcolm wanted to hear.  
"Eighty-nine," snapped Malcolm. "There were only eight-nine Sulliban prisoners, not thousands."  
T'Pol ignored his loss of temper but Zobral seemed to regard it with interested confusion.  
"And the army you defeated?" pressed Zobral, leaning towards Malcolm like a fond uncle.  
"One would hardly call it an army," said Malcolm resentfully, looking away from Zobral in order to keep his anger in check. "It was a few dozen prison guards… and to be perfectly honest, they didn't put up much of a fight."

Zobral was frowning as if he wasn't sure whether or not to believe Malcolm. T'Pol stepped forward, implacable as ever. The stubborn set to her jaw forced Zobral to notice her.  
"Jonathon Archer is an excellent starship Captain but he's hardly the invincible warrior described to you," said T'Pol firmly.  
Zobral accepted this unhappily but couldn't quite give up altogether.  
"What about his legendary desert tactics?" he asked.  
"_I'm _the tactical officer on this ship," said Malcolm. "And I don't have any experience with desert warfare. I'm afraid you've come to the wrong people for help."

At this, Zobral seemed to slump and finally acknowledge defeat. He turned away and rested his hands on the railings of the shuttle-bay walkway.  
"All this for nothing," he sighed.  
Malcolm wondered if Zobral was once again trying to fish for sympathy or whether he was just enjoying the centre of attention. T'Pol exchanged a look with Malcolm that verged on irritation but was probably just to assess Malcolm's state of mind. He tried to look ready and supportive of any action she might order.  
"What about our people?" asked T'Pol quietly.

Zobral waved a hand dismissively, "You have far better sensors than we do. I'm sure you'll find them in no time."  
Malcolm thought about the couple of days that Zobral had spent on_Enterprise_ and promised himself that he'd do a full inventory of the armoury at the earliest opportunity. He doubted Zobral would have any scruples about stealing from his hosts. He certainly seemed to have no scruples about endangering their lives.

"Our sensors are being disrupted?" she told Zobral, advancing a few steps along the walkway. "And the Terothans have threatened to fire on us if we launch a shuttlepod."  
Zobral looked faintly disturbed.  
"How did you get here without them seeing you?" asked Malcolm flatly, determined to get an answer.  
"There is a narrow gap in their orbital detection grid," said Zobral, grinning at his own cleverness. "It occurs once every forty-six minutes but it is only open for less than one minute."  
"I'll need all the pertinent data," said Malcolm, crossing his arms.  
Zobral nearly laughed aloud, "You'll need more than that."

He looked down his nose at Malcolm as if he'd only just noticed who Malcolm was. Zobral obviously hadn't believed that Malcolm was the ship's Armoury Officer and doubted his abilities.  
"The manoeuvres are extremely difficult. It took us years to perfect it," said Zobral grandly.  
"I'm a quick study," said Malcolm.  
"_You_ will be shut down before you reach the atmosphere."

Zobral waved dismissively again and Malcolm wondered if he was trying to impersonate royalty. The show was certainly not fooling Malcolm.  
"With you at the helm," put in T'Pol. "Our chances would be greatly improved."  
Zobral waved aside her reasonableness, "I don't have time. My men are waiting for me."  
Malcolm was sick of the waving, "Well, they'll have to wait a little longer. You're the one who got our people stranded down there…"

Zobral finally seemed to see Malcolm as a threat and squared off against him. The cheerful demeanour dropped and he towered over Malcolm by several inches and by more than a dozen kilograms.  
"They are not my responsibility," shouted Zobral, as if sheer volume could prove his words.  
Malcolm looked away, cursing himself for not having carried a weapon. He'd be no good to the two missing men if he got himself killed in their absence. Seeing Malcolm's capitulation, Zobral backed down. He swept the end of his robes over his arm ostentatiously and took a step towards his waiting ship.  
"You're mistaken," said T'Pol.

At the command in her tone, both Malcolm and Zobral looked to her against their will. Malcolm buried his irritation and allowed T'Pol to pass him. Zobral took a step backward and watched her advance with deserved caution.  
"The Terothans believe we've joined your cause," said T'Pol. "If Captain Archer and Commander Tucker are apprehended, they will be undoubtedly be treated as members of your clan."

Zobral looked uncomfortable and Malcolm wondered how exactly members of his clan were usually dealt with. He had a feeling that neither the Captain's determined negotiation or Trip's easy manner would save them from a grisly fate. He'd heard a rumour that Trip had been reluctant to visit the desert planet and the Captain had nearly invited Malcolm instead. Malcolm wished he had gone; the _Enterprise_could suffer the loss of her Armoury Officer easier than the loss of her Chief Engineer. The Captain often insisted on personally attending to away missions and Malcolm had already uneasily accepted that his Captain was frequently placed in danger. It made Malcolm's job to protect him harder but it wasn't his place to judge the Captain's decisions.

Sensing the weakness in Zobral's determination not to care, T'Pol pressed on.  
"They'll become victims of the same oppression you've been fighting all these years," said T'Pol. "You should feel as responsible for those two men as you do your own."  
One thing could always be said for Vulcans; they always sounded too reasonable to disagree with.

* * *

Despite Malcolm's objection that more armed men would have bettered their chances, there were only three of them in the shuttlepod that left to rescue the missing officers and one of them was Zobral. Zobral piloted the shuttlecraft through the gap in the detection grid but Malcolm reclaimed the helm as soon as possible. Only T'Pol's intervention prevented any further fights between the two.  
"Take another pass over the Eastern Basin," said Zobral.  
Malcolm bristled at the presumption of the order but T'Pol responded first.  
"Our sensors would have detected them," she said firmly.  
"No," insisted Zobral. "There are magnetic deposits beneath that basin. They could be masking their bio-signs."  
"If we increased our altitude, this would go a lot faster," said Malcolm.  
Zobral wrinkled his nose, "We would also risk being detected."

Malcolm released his irritation by tapping the console a little harder than was necessary. There was silence in the shuttlepod for a moment but silence seemed offensive to Zobral.  
"If this is your tactical officer, it's a wonder _Enterprise_has stayed intact for this long," said Zobral flippantly.

Malcolm turned around to glare at Zobral for as long as he dared take his attention away from the task of piloting.  
"Lieutenant Reed is a competent officer," replied T'Pol.  
Malcolm knew that was as close to a compliment as he was ever likely to get from the Vulcan Sub-Commander. It was vaguely comforting.  
"Is he always this jealous?" asked Zobral.  
There was a pause before T'Pol answered, "That is an interesting interpretation of the situation."

At being defended by his superior officer, Malcolm felt justified in aggressively focusing his attention on the console in front of him. He tried not to think about how T'Pol had not denied Zobral's accusation. Malcolm was overprotective of the Captain and Chief Engineer but that was his job as Armoury Officer. Malcolm might be irritated and frustrated but jealousy was not a factor in it. In order for him to be jealous, he'd have to be attracted to one of the missing officers; unless Zobral meant he was jealous of T'Pol.

A light lit up on the console and Malcolm forced distracting thoughts from his mind.  
"I'm picking up weaponsfire on the surface," he reported calmly. "Nineteen kilometres, due south."  
Zobral leaned over Malcolm's shoulder, "A Terothan mortar."  
"Would they be targeting one of your settlements?" T'Pol asked Zobral.  
"We don't have any near there," shrugged Zobral.  
"Set a course and prepare to fire," ordered T'Pol.  
Malcolm turned to look at her, to confirm he hadn't misheard.  
"I believe they've located the Captain and Commander Tucker," she said.  
That was good enough for Malcolm and he swung the shuttlepod southwards.

Long after the mortar position had been pinpointed by sensors, Malcolm watched as a visible burst of light arced across the night sky. The targeted building was flattened and Malcolm refused to believe that the _Enterprise's _officers had been inside at the time. It would be too cruel a reality to contemplate after all the effort Malcolm had put into getting to know the two men.  
"I've got a lock," he said eagerly.  
T'Pol ignored his enthusiasm, "Fire."

Malcolm activated the shuttlepod's weapons and watched in satisfaction as the mortar position was obliterated. He took great exception to anybody shooting at his people.  
"I see them," said T'Pol suddenly, taping a secondary console. "Two humans. Bearing 115, mark 3."

Malcolm brought the shuttlepod in low over the sand dunes until two stumbling figures were highlighted in the searchlights. One of the figures was desperately dragging the other across the night landscape and Malcolm's heart leapt into his mouth. He knew instinctively that it would be Trip who was injured. While Trip matched the Captain for bravery, he seemed to have a certain vulnerability.

He landed the shuttle but kept his seat as T'Pol reached out through the hatch to drag in an exhausted Trip. Trip collapsed in the back of the shuttle while T'Pol offered him a waterbag. Malcolm was briefly irritated that his view of Trip was blocked as Zobral dragged the Captain in through the hatch. The next moment, Malcolm was ashamed of his irritation; the Captain deserved his sympathy just as much as Trip.

Perhaps Zobral was right and Malcolm was jealous. He enjoyed Trip's company; in life-threatening situations, in arguments or simply while watching movies together. The cocky engineer had become his best friend. At that thought, he looked around the Captain to see Trip without caring how obvious it was to T'Pol or Zobral.

Trip looked drained, his eyes drooping but he looked up long enough to respond to Malcolm's gaze. The engineer smiled fleetingly at Malcolm and Malcolm felt his stomach flutter in response. Trip's eyes shut and T'Pol offered him water again. Malcolm turned back to the console and took off.

Malcolm felt uncomfortable now that he realised he had fallen for Trip. However, he was indescribably grateful that he still had the opportunity to make his feelings known. He had no idea how Trip would react but Malcolm refused to risk never telling him. He would, of course, wait until Trip had recovered from his latest escapade. The thought made him shiver in anticipation.

THE END


End file.
